


Siht Naht Erom Erised

by himitsutsubasa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Blood Purity Issues, M/M, Mirror of Erised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himitsutsubasa/pseuds/himitsutsubasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris processes contraband in Beacon Hill's Magical Sheriff's department. This time, something stolen from a rather famous school. As usual, the paper work and Peter Hale do not disappoint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siht Naht Erom Erised

**Author's Note:**

> Somethings have been changed because this is a fusion of the two universes. There are aspects to both in this story and you'll find things interesting.

Chris wasn’t sure what it is he’s looking at, only that it’s shiny and someone died to get it into the country. Therefore, he guessed, it’s like all the other contraband the Magical Sheriff’s department saw.

“Chris?” Parrish stood in the doorway, waving a menu. “Caroline found this place downtown. Muggle food and it’s really good.”

Chris rolled his eyes as he glanced at the menu. Sometimes, they just… forgot. “No thanks. Have fun.”

“Okay, boss. See you later.”

Chris went back to the file that came with the mirror. It’s from England, not the United Kingdom, England and that meant he needed to finish up the paperwork on it faster than most. He clicked his pen and almost boggled at the people asking for it back.

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose. That was not a good sign. It’s a really bad sign actually. It meant that someone managed to break into a place as locked up as Fort Knox, only with the threat of real and true death, and steal something so valuable he could be killed for possessing it. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should call up his liaison in the department there and ask her if she was willing to do the work for him. No, Molly would never agree to it.

Chris signed and wrote up a few notes on the shiny thing. Namely that yes, two women had brought it into the country. One had killed the other and the other was in custody. The one that was in custody was not in any mental state to testify. Apparently, what she had seen broke her.

Chris glanced up at the mirror. It wasn’t a scary mirror to be sure. The frame was plain, except for an engraving that Chris didn’t understand. “Erised Stra Ehru Oyt Ube Cafru Oyt On Wohsi.” What was that supposed to mean?

“Sir?” Chris glanced at the skull. He would never get over the fact that they had skulls for phones and landlines in the offices.

“Yes, Isaac?” He tried not to grimace. He tried so hard to train the boy out of that. Three years ago, he’d found the boy home for the summer and a litany of bruises. Apparently, Voldemort’s mother wasn’t the only person to use a love potion on someone. He just regretted that Mary didn’t take Isaac with her when she ran.

“Mr. Hale’s here to see you.” Not worth it.

Peter Hale was, at best, a great wizard and werewolf. He was, at worst, a liability, though their supervisors didn’t see it. No, why would they? Beacon Hills was just a small outpost. The closest link to the magical world was a few hours away in San Francisco. The Hales were the only pure blood family on the west coast anyway and that meant something to people. Chris pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Send him in.” Chris rubbed his beard and got ready to hear the usual. “Get to lunch, Isaac. I can’t have you getting any skinnier than you are.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He waited for the crackle that never came. Instead, a small thump as his door swung open met his ears.

“How is my favorite muggle?” Peter smirked as he entered.

Chris rolled his eyes and put his pen down. Any time Peter was in a good mood was a bad time.

“What do you want Hale?”

“Nothing.” Chris raised a brow. “Okay, I may have heard you have something interesting.”

The mirror then. Peter leaned over the desk, placing his chest, damn those v-necks, at eye level. Chris didn’t raise his head, too experienced to expose his throat to a wolf. Instead, he got a good grip in the shirt and tugged.

“I will only say this once, back off.” He turned his head, nose to nose with the wolf.  Electric blue eyes stared back at him.

The wolf exhaled a puff in Chris’ face that smelled like artificial mint. “Aren’t you interested in what you see?”

Chris’ eyes never left the wolf’s, taking in the slow fade that brought the green eyes he knew so well out of the blue. “What am I supposed to see?”

“Whatever you want most.” Peter’s hand clasped over his. “Your deepest, most depraved secrets.”

Peter pressed his nose to Chris’, breathing his air. “What do you see, Christopher?”

Chris knew his most depraved secret. That he had gotten away from his family and that he’d made sure that Allison got to the school without a shadow over her shoulders, that she’d never been called a “mudblood”. He’d have helped his wife through it and gotten home before his father showed up with a shot gun and gasoline. He’d have saved Victoria from being burned at the stake with his father raving about the witch she must have been but wasn’t. She’d have lived and he would have been the one in her place, making sure his father was put away for good.

“My wife, Peter. What do you see?”

Peter turned to the mirror. His hand tightened and Chris’ knuckles buckled under the pressure. The wolf didn’t take his eyes off the glass. Released, he backed away, slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave. Peter stared into it, like he could stare through it, and, if he tried hard enough, he could reach through it and grasp what he saw on the other side.

“The elder wand, I presume.” Peter smirked. “I’ll see you in a bit, and maybe you’ll be brave enough to actually look in the meanwhile.”

Peter swept out, taking the foresty smell that Chris hadn’t noticed until it was gone, with him.

Chris sighed, ruffling his hair. The elder wand was, for the lack of a better word, gone. No word of it after the second Wizarding War ended twenty years ago.  Chris had looked after the dust settled down and he’d discovered his daughter would be involved in a very dangerous world. He had, for all his connections, found nothing.

He’d learned the legends and if Peter wanted it, and he was good enough a wizard to handle it, then there would be no hope. The question would be whether or not Peter would ask for a wine with gold flecks in it or a mansion built on air first.

Except, Chris couldn’t imagine it. Peter had been insane, power hungry after he woke from his coma at UCSF. He’d killed Kate and sucked power out of her lungs.  He’d almost killed Laura when his niece tried to stop him from rampaging. His alpha power had been too much and Laura, weakened already by an attack a few days before, had barely made it out alive. Only thanks to the kids, who had come home from the Western Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Lydia’s fire whiskey bombs had they come out relatively unscathed. Still, Derek had been bitten and Peter was almost euthanized, werewolf rights still shaky after Greyback.

Chris breathed slowly, taking in the fact that Peter was a reformed werewolf, despite all of that. He was a pureblood, magic at the ready. He had been bitten and then almost burned to death. He had gotten into a coma. He had woken and rampaged. He had almost killed them all. Chris knew he couldn’t forgive Peter’s actions as a product of his past, that would be weak and condescending, but he saw the way Peter’s eyes glowed under praise and the way he seemed to press himself into something like the burnt husk of his house as people spoke about another kid bitten by wolves.

Peter was stripped bare, worn through, and thoroughly real. He wasn’t a murderer now. He was an officer and a bloody good one.

Chris stopped pretending to write his report and sipped his magically warmed coffee instead. What was it that Peter had said? His deepest, most depraved desires? Chris had to pause because, no, his desire to not have the bitter storm that was his life hit him square in the jaw was not depraved. It wasn’t even that deep because people could read it off his skin.

Chris stood and walked to the mirror, peering into its depths. He didn’t see anything, or at least, nothing noticeable. Then, something soft started hovering in the background, he made out a familiar figure and stark blue eyes.

A hand settled on his shoulder and a breathless voice whispered in his ear.

“Chris?” The wolf was actually there, pressing against his side.  Chris inhaled and smelled the faintest scent of curly fries and cheese. If he guessed by the brown bag sitting on his desk in the background, Peter had brought him food too.

“Peter?”

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.” Nothing had changed and he didn’t know what that meant. Peter, on the other hand, tightened his grip before drifting back.

Chris turned away from the mirror, but the wolf was already moving, already too far to reach, and then gone.  Chris settled at his desk with his food and wondered what else he had missed when he saw the mirror. Peter had looked, really looked, he had inhaled. He had breathed into Chris’ space like he would die if he didn’t.

Chris popped a curly fry in his mouth. Something told him that he would not see Peter until the werewolf had to submit a report, even then Parrish would be more than willing to do it for him.

**Author's Note:**

> It's late. I just finished the second movie in my rewatch. Cut me some slack here. Chris is a muggle working in a magical office by the way. Like my headcanon for Coulson, he just showed up one day and people stopped questioning it because he was so good at his job.


End file.
